Nathaniel Jean's Senior Year

21: Nathaniel Jean's Home - Up in Flames

Mild trigger warning for this chapter and any upcoming ones if you're sensitive to self-harm and/or suicide. There's nothing graphic/super descriptive, but continue with caution <3

It was night when Natalie came back, this time accompanied by her boyfriend. Lucas had left thirty minutes earlier, needing to be home for dinner, after an obnoxiously long FaceTime with my cousin in which they bonded over gay shit and I sat there watching, rolling my eyes and laughing at how quickly they got along.

I was sat on the living room couch when the front door clicked open. Natalie smiled in greeting, and she seemed so much more recognizable now that she was in her hospital scrubs again.

"What's up?" She asked, tossing her keys onto the side table and plopping down next to me. "Did your boyfriend come?"

I nodded. "Yeah, he just left. Everything's good, which feels weird to say in this situation, but it's true. Thanks again for all of this."

She rolled her eyes. "Can we agree that that'll be the last one?" She pleaded.

"Nah," I teased. I looked past her at Renaldo, who was sort of just standing awkwardly at the edge of the couch. He was a taller, lankier, better-adjusted version of Eric. Unlike his brother, his hair was straight and styled, and his button-up, glasses, and angular face gave him a sense of maturity that his brother—who still had quite the case of teenage disorganization and baby-face—severely lacked. They had the same eyes, though—playful and probably up to no good.

     I waved at him, a bit amused at his I-don't-know-what-to-say expression. "Hi."

He chuckled sheepishly. "Hey. Sorry, it's just kinda weird seeing you on my couch."

I understood what he meant. Somehow, it was stranger to think that I was sharing a home with someone who I'd seen around all my life but never really talked to than to think I was doing so with Natalie, someone I hadn't known existed until roughly a month ago.

    "I hope this doesn't, like, bother you," I said, once again feeling guilty for so suddenly thrusting myself into these people's lives. "Me staying here out of the blue and all."

     Renaldo shook his head, walking around the couch to shake my hand. "Nah, man," he grinned. "I'd rather you stay here than on the streets. Besides, my brother's mentioned you before, says you're pretty cool. As long as you're not a massive cockblock, it's fine."

     I choked a little, and Natalie burst out laughing. "Never in my life," she said between giggles, "Have I seen an expression so clearly say 'ew heterosexuals'."

     We all laughed at that, and things went pretty smoothly from there. I'd kind of planned on separating myself from them as much as possible as to not intrude, but they insisted that I stay in the living room and binge Stranger Things with them, and I felt no compulsion to argue. They had that cool vibe to them of people who were a little older but still young enough to understand my humor, and we all got along instantly.

     It wasn't all smiles. I couldn't seem to go very long without remembering how fucked up my life was and momentarily losing my breath. I hid that, though, determined to remain positive.

     It felt nice to sleep in a comfortable bed, not the reclined seat of my car. To go through a morning routine almost the same as it once was, and to be greeted by friendly faces when I entered the kitchen. To have cereal for breakfast, accompanied by a conversation with Renaldo about Latin-American soccer teams.